The Greenhorn
by Stephen89
Summary: The Road Rovers square off once more to take on the forces of the greedy General Havoc, only this time, they’re going to have some reinforcements. Guest staring S.C. Wolfe’s “X-Generarion” character Chance.
1. Chance

And so comes the time to post the first chapter of my first story on ! How exciting!

The only thing that I need to point out at this time is the first character to appear in this fiction, Chance. Chance was originally a character from the S.C. Wolfe series "The X-Generation."

Wolfe has long since erased everything from his profile, and given me permission to use the characters that were of his design and creation.

The point of saying so was: Even though Chance is a foreign character to many of you who will be reading this work of fiction, I will do my best to fill in the gaps. Eventually (with permission), I will be posting an edited and revised version of the late "X-Generation."

Until then…

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**The Greenhorn**

Stephen89

The Border Collie sat in his wheelchair. With the cold light emitted by twenty computer monitor screens as his only company, the cano-sapien sighed. Rover command center could get to be a lonely place when there were no missions on the board.

Chance amused himself by balancing on the back tires of his chair while he watched a loading bar inch it's way across one of the numerous displays. His ear flicked in annoyance as the loading bar suddenly stopped, and an error message flashed up on screen. "It was a long-shot anyway." He sighed to himself as he opened up the main command screen and closed the error message.

Somewhere in the background, chance could hear the grunting and crashing sound of Muzzle, the Rottweiler, approaching. A sure sign that the Master was awake.

Chance continued his work, uninterrupted as Sheppard and Muzzle walked in. then again, all he could do at the moment was wait patiently as loading bars were replaced with error messages. The Master rubbed the back of his neck and looked meaningfully at the analog clock hanging over the door.

"Chance, its four thirty in the morning. You need your rest." Sheppard said as he scanned the computer screens' data.

Currently the only human in the Road Rover operations, Sheppard was almost as brilliant as Chance was. He worked just as hard as Chance, that was for sure.

"So do you, Sir. You've had only about three hours of sleep this week." Chance lowered the front wheels of his chair back to the ground. "It isn't a thirty-hour work day, you know."

"When you have as many critics as I do, Chance, it's more along the lines of a forty-hour work day." Sheppard replied, making his way over to the corner of the room, where a small pot of coffee sat steaming.

"All due respect, Sheppard, but the United Nations didn't exactly care for my High Altitude Rail Cannon concept." Chance spared a moment to look at the blue prints, cast aside on a drawing table to his left. "Pity. It could have had so many uses. The heat-generating system would have been more than enough to power an aircraft with a quarter of the fuel currently required."

"Chance. Focus." Sheppard interrupted past the rim of his mug.

Chance had a very bad habit of getting carried off-subject like that. The Border Collie nodded, and turned his copper-gold eyes back to the computer screens. "So. What are you working on?" the master asked, looking at the bombardment of error messages.

"It's a bit of a surprise, but at this point that's honestly because I doubt I can get this experiment to work." Chance replied as he closed out five more messages.

"Can I have a hint?" The Master asked his tone rather informal.

Chance knew the master wasn't an idiot, and had probably figured out the point of the experiment just by reading the screens' data windows.

"Yeah." Chance sighed. "It has to do with doubling the strength of certain Road Rover operatives."

"Oh, now that I didn't expect to hear." Sheppard took another sip of his coffee; black, with no sugar, if Chance's nose was as good as breed standard.

"I've also been working on a new design for our blaster energy weapons. It will be more of a laser gun now." Chance pulled up the blueprints. "It's a little more intimidating to look at, for starters, and has more penetration and less surface displacement."

"A kill-weapon?"

"Yes, sir. After the lessons learned by the X-Generation, I fear we may need more powerful weapons." Chance replied.

Chance slapped at his keyboard, pausing the loading bars. _Not loading bars,_ The Master realized. _They're programs running some kind of simulated test_.

"Do you," Sheppard paused to formulate the question in his mind, "Do you ever think about your team?"

"All the time." Chance moved some papers off of his work space, and exposed a framed picture of six Rovers. Long ago, the Road Rovers had been captured by a man by the name of White, who had planned on brainwashing the Rovers into loyalty to his organization. It had been the job of the X-Generation to recover the Road Rovers before any harm befell them or the world.

"I sure could use their company at times." Chance admitted to himself out loud. The "X-Gen" had taken four casualties, two of which were fatal. Being such, after their main objective had been completed, the X-Gen was disbanded and the dogs were returned to their respective homes.

Chance, having no hope for a normal life as a dog, was allowed to remain on-base as a permanent Rover. His spine had been crushed during a conflict with General Parvo during the early days of the X-Gen. As a result; Chance was now confined to the base, where he used his elevated intelligence in every way possible. He worked as "Mission Control" for Rover missions all over the world, providing technical support, intelligence, and mechanical insight. The rovers had seen a five percent increase in mission successes within the first month.

Chance had the heart of an inventor. If there was ever a clear mission board, as was the case that day, he could always be found with some blueprint or another. "Only one in one hundred of my inventions ever works," he had once explained, "But every hundredth time, I hit gold, and life improves for us all."

"This time," Chance suddenly said, as though he had been reading Sheppard's thoughts, "I'm improving life for Muzzle."

Chance slapped the ENTER key on his keyboard. Formulas and chemical equations suddenly popped up on screen next to six images of muzzle. Three were of the Rottweiler in his canine form, a form not seen since the early failures of the transdogmafier, and three were of the Rottweiler in his never-quite-accomplished cano-sapien form.

"Chance." The Master choked. "What is all of this?"

"I think I can fix him." Chance replied, reinitializing the series of loading bars.


	2. Cure for the Itch

**The Greenhorn Chapter 2**

**Cure for the Itch**

The sun's heat radiated through the humid air of Mexico's tropical forest. The four canosapiens panted heavily in a vain effort to cool their inner body heat as they trudged through the close-growing underbrush.

"I didn't think this place was supposed to be so hard to trek!" Colleen exclaimed breathlessly.

"They call it 'remote' for a reason, Colleen." Hunter replied as he looked into his empty canteen.

"_Keep it together out there, guys_." Chance called over the team's radios. "_You're less than a mile away._"

"Is that supposed to be encouraging?" Blitz snapped back.

"You can always go wait back in the Jet Rover with Shag and Exile?" Hunter suggested, almost cruelly. Blitz hadn't stopped his whining ever since they stepped out of the jet, which was wearing thin on even Hunter's patience. The two long-fur dogs had opted to remain at the jet. They'd have over heated way too rapidly in the heat, and neither one of them wished to be a detriment to the mission.

"What? Wait in that cramped metal oven with those two stinky furballs? Count me out." Blitz folded his arms.

"Then at least keep quiet enough for the rest of us to keep from going insane." Colleen barked. The collie had almost opted to remain at the jet as well, though in her case her long fur was actually designed to keep cool air close to her body.

"_Cut the chatter, fellas. You're less than a hundred meters away from the last known position of the smugglers_." Chance called over the radio. "_Try to be more discreet_."

"Easy for him to say. He's back at HQ with a working air conditioner." Blitz muttered.

"Now, c'mon, Blitz. Chance works harder than any of us combined." Hunter stated quietly as the rovers continued. "For us, the whole story is 'get in, get the job done, get out'. Chance must have been working on all of the preparations for this mission for close to a week now."

"Oh, please. Pretty Boy probably spends more time grooming than Colleen." Blitz smirked. "He just delegates all of the real work to other rovers then takes the credit."

"_False as that may be, Blitz, it's your opinion and you're entitled to it._" Chance replied.

"You heard that?" Blitz choked.

"_Every word._" Chance could be heard chuckling. "_That's kind of the point of the radios that you are all wearing."_

Blitz slapped his face to hide his embarrassment. Muzzle, from the confines of his restraining cart, laughed. Hunter had been dragging the wheel cart for almost two miles through rough terrain and blistering heat. It almost seemed to be too much trouble, but the Rottweiler had come in handy too many times in the past to leave behind. Besides, the team was two-short as it was. Leaving Muzzle behind would have left the mission's success on Hunter, Colleen and Blitz.

Hunter was almost to the point of heat-stroke, and Blitz was making a show of whatever discomfort he was in. The only one who wasn't suffering all too bad was Colleen, and that wasn't to say she wasn't uncomfortable. It helped that Colleen was wearing an experimental environment suit that Chance had created. The fitted armor used a gel, similar to that used in ice packs for lunch boxes, to maintain a more stable temperature for the wearer. It was heat-proof and cold-proof, though only for a short while.

.

From his desk at Rover HQ, Chance watched a diagnostic on the suit's inner temperatures. They were beginning to rise, but not too rapidly. The Rovers already had environment suits, but they were heavy and expensive. Not to mention, the old environment suits were clumsy, making mobility in such terrains as the Rovers were in much more difficult.

Colleen's suit was failing around the joints, where the body was under more friction from movement. Chance jotted down some quick notes to himself. _The new suit maintained a comfortable heat only for a fourth of the time of the old suit. Not good enough to justify the effort of installing a power source to work the suit for longer._

"_Chance. Are you seeing this?_" Hunter asked over his headset.

Chance looked to the computer screen, which was giving a video uplink to Hunter's headset. "Disappointing." He said aloud.

Almost a week ago, the Rovers had received a tip that there was an anonymous smuggling ring located on the western coast of tropical Mexico. There were scattered reports of cano-mutant activity, and so the Rovers had agreed to investigate.

What Chance was staring at on the screen was anything but exciting. Exotic birds in cages sat in the middle of a large clearing. Men in dirty jungle apparel moved about with more birds of empty cages. "Not what I was expecting." Chance sighed.

"_We don't do local police work._" Hunter stated.

"No, we don't." Chance agreed. Every now and then, governments liked to trick the Rovers into doing their dirty work to avoid putting their own police forces in harm's way.

"Get me some surveillance pictures then pull out. This mission in awash." Chance ordered.

In a few moments, images began uploading from Colleen's spy camera. Chance almost didn't pay attention except that something caught his eye. "Hold on a moment, Colleen." He asked. Chance reviewed one of the images of bird cages. He used his computer to zoom in on one of the men's faces, and snarled.

"Colleen, one of your pictured has a familiar face in it, but the image is blurry." Chance sent the image back through to the rovers, who could view it on a small hand-held video uplink, stored on their armor. "There's a man wearing what looks like a red military uniform. I want you to see if you can get a better shot of him."

"_Sure thing, Chance._" Colleen replied.

It was only a few moments before Colleen's images began coming through. "_You'll never guess who decided to show up for the party_!" Colleen jested.

Chance looked at a profile image of General Havoc. He was looking in the cage of a Macaw, smiling wickedly. "Somehow I doubt he's looking for a new pet." Chance muttered.

Colleen growled, "_Agreed._"

"_What are the chances of this being a coincidence and Havoc _is_ actually here for some other reason?" _Hunter asked.

"Slim to none, Hunter." Chance archived the images, and turned his attention to a live satellite image showing heat sources in and around the Road Rovers' area. "Looks like there are three separate buildings, none of them larger than a few rooms. I count maybe thirty people outside, but I can't tell for sure how many may be indoors."

Chance watched the men on the heat-scan. "Almost nobody's moving, guys. I don't like the looks of this."

"_Me neither_." Hunter agreed.

"_Good, none of us like it. Can we go home now, _please?" Blitz moaned.

Chance watched as heat sources began appearing behind the rovers. It took Chance's reflexes a moment to sound the alarm. "Ambush! You have contacts approaching from all sides! Rovers, get out of there!" Chance got to work on his keyboard, calling for Exile and Shag to perform an emergency pick-up.

Already, Hunter was working at the bindings holding Muzzle back. Colleen disabled one of the contacts with a quick jab to the wrist, then to the neck. Blitz sliced apart another contact's fire arm, but when two others moved in to assist their comrade, the Doberman ran head over heels in retreat.

Beyond sending tactical information to the ground team, Chance was helpless. He sat and watched as the rovers were beaten back into the opening where the cages were. A thought occurred. "Blitz, let the other three handle the enemy! Destroy those cages, and don't allow yourself to get caught in them. Havoc may be trying to capture you guys!"

"_At last! The tooshie biting begins!_" the Doberman roared in excitement.

Chance happened to look at Muzzle at that point in time, noticing that as the Rottweiler charged a small flock of enemies, the men threw down their weapons and ran in animal-like fear. Why? There were five well-armed men against a single half canine, half canosapien. Chance made a note to himself on a sticky-note to look into the question.

"_Chance, we could use some help! There's too many of them!_" Colleen yelped as a shot glazed her shoulder. A diagnostic flicked on screen, showing considerable damage to her armor, though the flesh underneath remained unharmed.

"Exile's less than ten seconds away! Just hold on!" Chance replied. Sweat covered the back of the Border Collie's neck and forehead. All around the Rovers, puffs of dirt jumped up into the air as bullets struck the ground.

When Exile arrived, most of the shots were diverted to the airship, giving the Rover team the opening they needed to jump onboard. "_Muzzle! Here boy_!" Hunter yelled. The Rottweiler 's attention snapped over to the jet, where everyone was holding off a horde of gunfire. Muzzle ran for the jet.

"_Everyone's onboard_!" Colleen yelled over the radio.

"_Okey-dokey! We're getting out doggie butts out of here_!" Exile called back to his team. The jet lifted into the air, and shot off into the air and out of Chance's limited view of his satellite.


	3. The Death of Muzzle, The Birth of Scout

**Okay, so originally, this one chapter was supposed to be four. This was a pain in the ass to read, so I chopped them up and made them all one chapter. I'll give more details below, but I wanted to mention this simply because, yes, I do realize how "All of a sudden" this chapter seems to be.**

**The Greenhorn Chapter 3**

**Die and Live Again**

**Part I – Fixing the Broken Parts**

Chance watched the wireless heart monitor as Muzzle bounced around the medical lab. Almost double the normal heart rate, and half the healthy blood pressure. In addition to these abnormal signs, the rottweiler's brainwaves looked more like the heart monitor's jagged and rapidly repeating frequency than the long rolling frequency that should have been present.

In addition, Muzzle had abnormal metabolism, breathing, and rapid eye movement. The last of these is what captivated the wheelchair-bound Border collie the most. "It's a classic sign of dreaming." Chance explained to Sheppard later that day. What is most intriguing about Muzzle is that most of his symptoms are physical. His brain is hyperactive, but that is the only possible explanation for his insanity."

"Which leaves to question why he has so many physical symptoms." Sheppard nodded, looking at the diagnostics.

"I have a theory." Chance wheeled over to his drawing board, and sketched out a rough figure of a human being, and a generic dog. "We already know that Muzzle is stuck between the two forms moldable to canines."

"I follow," Sheppard encouraged after a moments pause.

"What if, by some misfortune, Muzzle's mind is trapped in this median as well? It would explain the mental issues perfectly." Chance looked back to the Master.

"What about the physical readings?" Sheppard asked, looking back to the diagnostic. "I've taken readings on scout before, and I haven't ever seen anything so drastic as these readings. Not all at once, anyway."

"Individually, the symptoms are a result of the state of his being. Either the hyper activity of the brain is causing the problem, or," Chance's ears drooped as he continued, "the appearance of all of these symptoms collectively suggests that Muzzle's condition is getting worse."

Sheppard's skin paled slightly. "How much time do we have?"

"Again, it's only a theory, Sheppard. I have no way of telling for sure what is wrong with Muzzle when every test I take just blurs the image a little more." Chance brought up a simulated test that he had run earlier that day while observing Muzzle. "I think if I cool Muzzle's body temperature, I may be able to explore several options further. As it is right now, Muzzle is too hyperactive for me to even get definite medical readings."

"Do whatever it takes, Chance." Sheppard said conclusively.

Chance nodded. "The Road Rovers are going to need to know what's happening eventually. Muzzle's a part of their team, and I say they deserve to have a voice in his fate."

"I agree." The Master said after a long stillness. "I'll speak with them as soon as possible. Until then, do what ever you can."

"Yes, Master." Chance replied.

.

The rovers shared a near-universal reaction when they received the news. At first the Rovers, and none more then Hunter, danced with joy. However, as the Master began to describe to the team the urgency surrounding the issue, the room grew quiet.

"As Chance informed me, we only have indications that Muzzle's condition is getting worse. There's no conclusive evidence one way or the other. However, this does bring the fact forward that Muzzle has been set as a side project for far too long." Sheppard took a deep sip from his coffee mug.

"Master, how much time does Muzzle have?" Hunter asked.

Sheppard sighed. "Again. At this time, we only suspect that Muzzle may be getting worse. As we speak, Chance is working to gather as much information as he can, and from that, he will formulate a plan for Muzzle's recovery."

"What kind of recovery are we talking here?" Colleen asked. "Will Muzzle still come with us on missions?"

"I can't say for sure. Not at this time." The Master replied. 'That will all depend on what Chance and I can learn. Until further notice, your team is suspended for action. You may return to your homes or remain here, but until the emotional trauma of this has passed, you are forbidden to enter the field. Dismissed."

Sheppard watched as the rovers silently filed out of the room. His heart sank to see the Road Rovers in such a down mood. He could have lied to the Rovers and said that Muzzle was remaining on base to relax or to recover from a sprained ankle. Chance was right, however. The rovers needed to have a voice in the calls.

They'd have figured it out eventually anyway.

When Sheppard had made his way back to the medical lab, scrap papers and computer equipment lay all around. Chance was fumbling with wires behind two computer terminals, muttering to himself.

Sheppard didn't bother to ask what all of the clutter was for. Doubtless the genius canosapien had already run several primitive tests in the two hours it had taken to assemble the Rovers.

"Cooling his body temperature didn't work." Chance said aloud to nobody in particular. Sheppard knew well enough to remain quiet, lest the Border Collie be pulled permanently onto some side tangent.

"He can't be cooled, yet his body temperature remains our only constant." Chance rubbed the back of his neck. "His blood pressure dropped, but he didn't cool down. Impossible. No-no. Literally impossible. Not with his other symptoms." Chance finished installing the computers and wheeled around to the four-monitor setup. His hands got to work on the keyboards as he began copying the test results on the scattered papers to the computer.

Chance blew air out of his nose as he looked at a clipboard with seemingly random number scribbled all over it. "Useless." He said. "This is all useless unless I can find the lock."

"What lock?" Sheppard asked.

Chance jumped so hard that he almost fell out of his wheelchair. "Don't-don't do that!" Chance exclaimed. "You're going to give me a heart attack! My health is bad enough as it is, but you-"

"Chance, focus." Sheppard cut in before Chance was lost to the tangent. "What did you mean by 'the lock'."

Chance paused for a moment as he recovered his train of thought. "'The Lock'? that's just a term I came up with for one of the solutions to one of my ever more numerous theories." Chance said dismissively.

"Explain it to me."

"Simple enough. The theory starts with what we know. During Muzzle's transformation, his body and mind were trapped between the canine and canosapien forms. My suspicion is that during Muzzle's transformation, maybe his ability was trapped as well." Chance paused to tap a pen against the side of his snout. "See, if Muzzle had a power at all similar to mine, being one provoked by brain function, it wouldn't be able to fully kick in. I suspect that, if this is the case, the partly-developed power is blocking Muzzle from changing all the way, or simply changing back to how he was."

"What are you saying, Chance?" Sheppard asked, taking a seat on a rolling stool.

"I think that removing the power – destroying it – may be the key to Muzzle's recovery." Chance turned his head to look at Sheppard. "Master, I'd like to remind you that it is _only_ a theory. I have a hundred more just like it, and just as likely to work."

"I think, then, that the best place to start would be eliminating the tests that I've tried in the past." Sheppard said presently. "I've kept a video archive on the main computer."

Sheppard had been trying to cure Muzzle from day one, but had never even come close. Luckily, Muzzle hadn't gotten any worse off for it, but that didn't lessen the sting of failure.

.

Chance remained in the medical bay for a very long time after the Master had left. Together, Sheppard and Chance had eliminated almost thirty possible treatment options. To his credit, Sheppard had given an honest effort at fixing his mistake.

For some reason, Chance continued returning to the possibility that Muzzle's natural power was holding him back.

Early on in Sheppard's research, when the Rovers were still only a concept and HQ's construction hadn't even completed, the Master had discovered that almost every human, canine, and cat had a "natural talent or power." As he had once told the X-Generation, Chances original team, "Although we are all born with powers and talents, very few of us ever learn that they exist within us. Even fewer learn how to use their power. That is one major advantage of transdogmafication; it brings these powers forward so that they are readily available for the changed individual."

Chance wondered if there was a greater significance to be pulled from this, but forced himself to focus on Muzzle. _How do you destroy a power?_ The Border Collie wandered.

"Powers are mostly stores of energy wither inside the body or surrounding it." Chance said aloud to his reflection in one of the computer screens. "Severing this connection wouldn't help. That may just be the problem that I'm facing. If that's the case, is it better to destroy the power, or restore the connection to the power?"

Chance's eyes throbbed as a headache formed. His vision had blurred slightly over the years, a possible sign of Collie Eye. Even as canosapiens, Rovers were prone to canine diseases. Recent surveys and studies had shown that canosapiens were capable of catching human diseases as well.

"That's it!" Chance suddenly exclaimed as a though made its way to the forefront of his conscience.

Chance almost broke the brake on his wheelchair as he headed for Sheppard's private quarters. "I've got it!" Chance exclaimed as the sliding door opened. Sheppard, who had been fast asleep after a thirty-hour work day, was instantly awake.

"How? Are you sure? What did you do?" Sheppard asked as he threw a lab coat over his long johns.

"The answer is simple, in a way." Chance explained as the two headed for the medical lab. "Muzzle is sick."

Sheppard gave Chance a sideways look.

"Not just mentally ill. Literally _sick_. He's got a human disease. I haven't ID'd which one yet, but whatever it is, it's neurological. It explains everything!" Chance took a deep breath, panting with the effort of keeping up with Sheppard. "The neurological disorder must have taken place during his original transformation. Back then, we didn't have buffers in our machines to prevent such errors from happening. Muzzle's neurological disorder naturally prevented his ability from taking root, and so his ability is confined to his mind, where it festers and consumed the memory required of the conscious being for clear thought.

"His body recognizes that there is something wrong, and has been trying to fight off the sickness. His body doesn't know what to look for, so it's attacking on a broad spectrum and without his brain to tell him how to react, his diagnostics went wild." Chance slid through the door of the medical lab.

"Master, if we can find which neurological disease he contracted, we can cure him right then and there!"

**Part II – The Death of Muzzle, the Birth of Scout**

Everyone waited breathlessly as Chance finished restraining Muzzle – who was heavily sedated. Hunted had already chewed his way through three claws, and was now working on his fourth.

"What if this doesn't work?" he asked, voicing the unspoken question that had been hanging in everyone's mind.

"Honestly, I have no idea what to expect." Chance admitted over the communicator from below. "The best we can hope for in the worst case scenario is that Colleen and I are able to keep Muzzle with us long enough to fix whatever went wrong."

"Is not very comforting." Exile noted.

"I'm sorry, but we have no choice. If we don't do this, Muzzle will keep on getting worse until there's nothing we could do." Chance took a deep breath as he placed a catheter. Colleen set up an IV drip, and hooked the rottweiler up to a series of monitors, which displayed pulse, blood pressure, brainwaves, and other such information.

"All ready when you are." Colleen said quietly.

Illness. A simple illness. The disease had been confined uniquely to Muzzle's brain, which was cause for suspicion for Chance. Lupus was an auto immune disease, yet it had remained relatively inactive in all of the body but one specific spot in the brain.

At first, Chance had believed his test results were wrong, but in an off way, the abnormal behavior of the disease made since. Everything else in Muzzle was out of order and acting improperly, why shouldn't an auto immune disease?

So, with one final sigh, Chance looked to Sheppard for the approving nod. Sheppard nodded, and Chance nodded back. "Do it, Colleen" Chance said. Colleen put a needle containing the medication into the IV drip.

A few moments later, Chance activated a radiation treatment. All they could do now was wait.

It was hours before Muzzle's condition changed, and it wasn't for the better.

.

"Chance, he's crashing!" Colleen yelped.

Hunter watched as Colleen and Chance got into full motion, working Muzzle with probes and needles. The Labrador mix almost wasn't able to watch, except that Exile and Blitz were both there to support him. No matter what their differing opinions of Muzzle were, the Rottweiler was a part of the team. So, even Blitz, who only rarely got along with the dog, began chewing his own claws.

"Come on, Fluffy." Blitz muttered. "You can make it."

"We're losing him, Chance!" Colleen shouted.

"I know, I know! I'm working as fast as I can!" Chance shouted back. "Get the paddle's ready! We're running out of time!"

Hunter choked back a tead back as a monotone ringing filled the air. "No pulse." Chance reported habitually. "Paddles charge."

"Charged." Colleen handed over the shock paddles.

"Clear!" Chance his Muzzle's chest with a surge of electrical force. The ringing resumed. "Again!" the Border Collie shouted furiously.

They tried again, again, and again, but the ringing never left. Chance flew into such a fit that he sent a computer flying into the far wall. "What went wrong!" he screamed, punching a dent into another table. Blood dribbled out of a resulting flesh wound.

After that outbreak, everyone sat in silence. Colleen and Chance were joined by the other rovers around Muzzle. "We had no choice, Chance." The Master stated. "Muzzle was dieing. You gave him a fighting prospect that he'd never have gotten left untouched."

"It wasn't enough." Chance replied simply, unplugging the heart monitor in order to silence the ringing.

As a team, the Rovers sat in silence for almost ten minutes before anything happened. Hunter looked blankly into Muzzle's still face, remembering how they'd met in a dog kennel, and together had narrowly escaped being euthanized. It didn't seem fair that Hunter got to continue on while Muzzle had to remain in the past.

Hunter's eyes ran dry of tears in time, leaving his mouth dry and his cheek fur dripping wet.

"Impossible." Chance said aloud.

"Nobody blames you, Chance." Colleen said kindly, patting the Border Collie on the shoulder.

"Not that!" Chances swiped her hand away, and rolled over to the brain monitor, which had not been removed yet. "Look!"

"What am I looking at?" Blitz asked, not making since out of anything at the moment.

Everyone crowded around the small machine as it displayed slow, wave-like brain patterns. "Normal brainwaves!" Colleen exclaimed.

"That's impossible! That screen's been blank for almost ten minutes!" Sheppard stated as he studied the screen.

"Ugh." Someone moaned in agony. Everyone turned to see Muzzle struggling in his restraints. His eyes were closed tightly, and his body squirmed.

"Muzzle!" everyone shouted. The rottweiler jerked in reaction and would have cupped his ears to mute the noise, had his arms not been restrained.

"Muzzle," Chance said quietly, though sternly, "can you understand me? Can you hear me?"

No reaction. Everyone looked to Chance. "Muzzle. If you hurt, I need to know where. Tell me everything you're feeling. It could be very important."

The reaction was slow in coming. Muzzle's yellow and black eyes opened slowly. His mouth moved as though to form words, but only grunts and whispers bubbled forth.

"Did treatment not work?" Exile asked.

"No. His brain has to reset. I thought this may happen. We just need to give him a few moments." Chance concluded aloud. "His brain if making connections that have been severed for nearly ten years. His recovery could take a few moments, or a few weeks. I have no way of telling for sure."

"We should plan for the worst." Colleen said conclusively. "If this takes a long time, he'll need a medical room and supplies..."

"Lights." Muzzle moaned.

Everyone's heads twisted so fast that Hunter cranked a muscle. "What'd you say, Buddy?" Hunter asked through the pain in his neck.

"Turn...out...the lights." Muzzle panted laboriously.

Chance was honestly shocked. Muzzle's recovery seemed to be taking only a few moments. Or maybe recovery would come in stages? It was too early to know for sure. One thing that Chance knew for sure was that the sedation should have lasted _way _ longer than it did.

Blitz ran over to the room's light controls, and dimmed them down to less than half of their normal strength.

.

When the lights finally went out, Muzzle was able to open his aching eyes.

He was surrounded by a number of ominous figures. At first, the rottweiler wasn't able to distinguish any of them from one another. He tried rubbing his eyes, only to find that he was restrained.

"I need you to answer my earlier question." One of the figures stated. "Where do you hurt. How do you feel? Tell me everything you can."

"I..." Muzzle coughed as his raspy voice tickled the back of his throat, "...my head hurts. The light made it worse."

"What about the rest of you?" the same voice asked.

"I'm going to chuck." Muzzle replied as he belched.

"Do you know where you are, Muzzle?" Someone asked.

It hurt to think, but Muzzle answered, "I'm...home. I know I'm home, but I don't know where home is."

Something clicked – literally _clicked_ – in Muzzle's head, and memories began flooding his recently reincarnated conscience. "Rovers!" he exclaimed in excitement. "I remember – _ghha!_" a splintering pain shot through Muzzle's head, but it wasn't enough to suppress his new-found spirit. "And the X-Gen! I remember...so...so much! I – I remember everyone – and – and, Sheppard!"

Muzzle's heart jumped into his throat. "Sheppard?" muzzle looked around the faces, and found his master.

"I'm here, Scout." The Master was choking on emotion. "I'm here."

"Remove his restraints." Chance ordered Colleen.

"But isn't he a little too unstable for tha...?" Colleen questioned, but was cut off by Chance, who was already working on one of the restraints.

"Do it." Chance gave colleen the 'collie eye'.

Colleen nodded, muttering "Not fair" in response to the infamous stare gifted to the collie-breeds.

Muzzle sat up, and found that his entire body ached. He didn't care, as his thoughts were too consumed in greeting his seemingly long-lost master. Muzzle and Sheppard hugged until neither of them could breathe.

"Thank you." Muzzle whispered in his still raspy voice.

"I told you I'd never give up." Sheppard replied.

**I know, I know...it was a long chapter, but there was a lot of events I need to have happen, and I didn't want to spend chapters and chapters covering it all. I offer that as an excuse for how cramped events may have seemed. After all, though this story revolves around the cured Muzzle, his healing is only a part of this. Originally I planned on having a chapter for the cure, a chapter for recovery, and a chapter for reintroduction...but who wants to read about all of that??**

**Critics are ****always**** welcome to PM me!**

**More action coming next chapter! Thanks for reading!**


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